


I Wanted to Write You a Song But...

by Nononlnkink



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nononlnkink/pseuds/Nononlnkink
Summary: Try as he might, Jazz simply could not give his sparkmate something this stupid.Prowl disagreed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I started this way back in October and then let it collect dust until today...
> 
> There was no reason for me to be prepared for Valentine's Day so early. None.

Jazz glared at the datapad in his hands. The words neatly typed up on it nearly made him cry. After a good cycle of trying to figure out just what to say, _this_ is what he ends up with?

 _When you love someone,_  
_You wish for them to be happy-_  
_Even if you can only standby and smile._  
_But I am selfish and cannot help it._  
_You met my eyes and took my spark._ _  
I can only wish to be happy with you._

There is no way he could give this to Prowl. It was cheesy, lovey-dovey, and basically downright ridiculous. Jazz let out an angry ex-vent. He used to be a musician-a singer! Why was this so _hard_ ? Prowl was supposed to be the socially confused one and yet the Praxian had managed to surprise Jazz by hiding datapads with little messages and endearments wherever he went. The last one had been full of silly jokes that were absolutely _horrible_. It had made Jazz laugh until his sides hurt and then laugh some more. If only he could find some way to return the thought and effort.

At first he had excitedly dug around their shared quarters until he found some of his old music, thinking he could sing something. The search had only resulted in an unopened box of blank datapads, a purple pillow that Jazz only vaguely remembered, and a broken parts of the room’s second berth. The poor piece of furniture had been ripped apart once when Jazz had returned from a cover-mission and hadn’t yet gotten himself back. Prowl had raced from the room to get Ratchet when he had started snarling and ranting. Jazz winced at the memory. He still felt horrible. After giving himself a good shake, the black and white mech half-heartedly dug through some more things before giving up. All of his old music was gone. No problem! He’d write something new.

And yet here he was, a good two shifts later, with some stupid poem that couldn’t even be decent lyrics. _Wonderful_. Jazz cushioned his helm on his arms and glaring at the offending datapad. Maybe it’d be be better to go and convince Smokescreen to part with some of those energon goodies he had gotten from the last betting pool. He jumped to his feet, excited by his new much more likely to make Prowl smile plan, and bounded off to find the eldest Praxian brother. He only stopped to whisk his datapad into a drawer in his desk. No reason for Prowl to find that.

* * *

Prowl couldn’t help beaming at Jazz. In the special ops mech’s hands were a light blue box full of his favorite energon gels. “Thank you, Jazz.” He reverently picked them up and placed them on his desk. Jazz’s smile was just as bright and genuine.

“Glad you like ‘em!” Jazz hopped over to his own desk to settle into the chair. He spun around before facing Prowl again with a smirk. “Maybe we should go for a drive?”

“A drive?” Prowl chuckled. “I highly doubt that it would stay as such.”

A shrug. “It’s not suppose to rain or anythin’.”

Prowl’s wings flicked with amusement. “Very well. I would just like to finish this report.”

“Great! I’ll meet you outside. I’m gonna warm up my engine so I can lap ya.” Jazz skipped out of the room. Prowl watched his mate go with a fond smile then turned his attention back a datapad carefully balanced between the neat piles of minor reports and lists. He had found it in the top drawer of his desk. At first, he had been confused. He hadn’t put anything there earlier. Jazz, while he rarely used his own desk, tended to commandeer it however, so maybe it was his mate that had left it? But that hardly seemed Jazz-like. For all that carefree and ‘rules what rules’ attitude, he was serious about his own paperwork. Late maybe, but never misplaced.

Curious, Prowl tapped the screen to wake it up. The last file was still pulled up and in editing mode. A quick scan of the words made Prowl double take and reread it, savoring every word and the meaning behind them. A soft smile tugged at his lips and he cradled the datapad closer.

He sent a quick ping to Jazz that had the mech bursting into the room in a frenzy. “What’s wrong?” Jazz’s visor flashed dangerously in the light.

“Calm down, Jazz. Everything is fine. I merely wanted to ask about this.” Prowl held up the datapad, still turned to the poem, and Jazz froze. He stared at it for a few kliks before relaxing his defensive posture.

“Ah,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “you found it.”

Prowl smiled. “Hard not to when it was placed in one of my drawers.”

Jazz’s visor, once dark and dangerous, was now lighter blue in embarrassment. “Oh slag. I’m sorry-”  
  
“Whatever for? I rather enjoyed it.”

“Seriously? That’s the worse thing I’ve written in decades.”

“Or the best, considering you’ve been busy destroying Decepticon intelligence and blowing up their buildings. Not much time to write.”

Jazz just had that ridiculously cheeky grin. He lunged forward to grab Prowl and drag him into a kiss. When they broke apart, he kept his grip on Prowl’s waist and placed another quick kiss to the shorter’s chevron. “Maybe if you stopped sending me out on missions then I would.”

“Hm. I don’t know-” The rest of Prowl’s sentence was cut off by sudden giggles. Jazz ran sneaky fingers up behind the other’s doorwings. “Jazz!”

“Sorry, thought you were gonna say somethin’ smart aft.” He didn’t stop his tickle attack until Prowl’s wings dipped to try and knock away his hands. Sometimes the highly sensitive sensors on doorwings could misinterpret touch as pain-mainly thanks to the fragile and delicate nature of doorwings in general. Jazz quickly slid his hands back down to Prowl’s waist. The Praxian’s wings fluttered for a moment before settling back to their usual position.

Prowl leaned up to touch foreheads. “Love you.”

“Love ya too, Prowl.”


End file.
